Harry Potter and the Dawn of Freedom
by kzff
Summary: Tom Riddle was able to use magic at a young age. What if, as his equal, Harry has the same ability? Good!Dumbledore, Bad!Weasleys


**Run. Hide. CRACK!**

**Harry stared at the vast forest in front of him with astonishment and more than a little fear. How had he gotten here? He had been running from Dudley and then… Collapsing sideways against the tree, Harry felt himself grow faint as exhaustion overtook him. **

* * *

Opening his eyes, Harry leapt to his feet as the previous night's events flooded to the front of his mind. At first, it seemed like a dream but the moist tree bark behind him disproved that theory.

"Ssstupid human…sstep on my nessst…ssshould I bite?"

Spotting a dark black snake preparing to strike, Harry yelped and stumbled backwards. "Please don't bite me!"

"A sspeaker?"

The snake hissed in a surprised tone, uncoiling his body and flicking his tongue out to taste Harry's scent. "A powerful wizard too…how fascinating..."

Forgetting about the fact that he had just spoken to an animal and understood the response, Harry desperately tried to replicate the strange surge of power and tingling sensation from the previous day, concentrating on his cupboard at the Dursleys.

CRACK!

Appearing in the cupboard, Harry let out a sigh of relief and pressed his sweaty palms against the wooden walls, as though to make sure they were really there. Only when he was certain that he wouldn't go 'poof' again did he relax.

Harry considered his strange form of travel and could only come to one conclusion. Contrary what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had drilled into him since he could talk, magic was real.

And he was not just any wizard, but a powerful wizard.

Just as he reached this startling conclusion, a loud voice boomed through the house, making Harry wince.

"BOY, GET OUT HERE AND START MAKING BREAKFAST!"

A wide grin split Harry's face as he imagined being free from the Dursley's at last. Walking into the kitchen, Harry began cooking with hope blossoming in his chest.

"I'm coming, Uncle Vernon!"

Making sure not to burn the toast, Harry peered through a crack he had left open in the kitchen door to make sure no one was watching. The coast was clear, and Harry sucked in a deep breath, attempting something he had only ever seen in cartoons. Drawing on his 'tingling power', Harry concentrated on the plates and utensils, willing them to move to the table and arrange themselves.

When they began to move, Harry cheered silently and began thinking up a list of new ideas to try out. If he could already perform teleportation and telekinesis, who knew what other skills he could develop?

Maybe a trip to the library was in order. Making up his mind, Harry robotically worked through his list of chores and jogged towards the Surrey Public Library.

* * *

Ms. Laura Moss was an observant woman. Working in the library, she met both adults and children from many different walks of life, but none were as close to her heart as the boy in front of her. From the first moment she had laid eyes on him, she knew the boy was being abused by his guardians.

But today, something was different. There was an excited gleam in his eye that she found to be oddly refreshing, much better than his usual sad resignation. Peering over his shoulder, she was surprised to discover he was reading a comic book rather than the high level science texts he had focused on before.

"Good morning Harry. How has your summer been so far?"

Turning around, Harry smiled slightly as he spotted the only adult who had ever cared about his wellbeing. "Hi Ms. Moss. My summer has been really good, and I even discovered some new talents. How did your trip go?"

It was obvious that Harry had left something out, but he seemed happy enough so she left it alone and began a vivid retelling of her summer travels. Harry put aside his comic book and listened intently, amazed by her impression of the sights and sounds at the pyramids of Egypt.

The time flew by as the librarian simultaneously regaled him with tales of her life, and helped him compile a list of magical abilities gathered from comics, books, and even myths. Moving through the entire bookshelf took nearly two hours, but by the end, Harry had numerous areas to look into and Ms. Moss had gotten a better understanding of Harry's home situation.

When Harry left the library, he had two goals in mind: learning more magic and traveling to Egypt. He was so preoccupied in his thoughts, he didn't notice the members of Dudley's gang following from behind until Dudley hollered, "It is the freak! Get him!"

Acting on pure instinct, Harry bolted into the nearest secluded alley and focused on becoming invisible. He could feel that he did not have enough energy to pull off another teleport, but perhaps this would work.

Dudley appeared first, skidding to a stop in the seemingly empty alleyway. Stomping past Harry, missing him by barely a centimeter, Dudley motioned for Piers and the others to follow. Harry smirked at their retreating backs and focused on being visible again, before slipping away.

Pulling a folded paper out of his pocket, Harry crossed out one of the items on the list and smiled a secretive smile.

It was just a matter of time until he was strong enough to be free.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later:**

"Now, if they come at you high, twist around, yes, just like that, and use the handle of the knife to knock them out."

The older boy watched with a critical eye as Harry practiced the move, striking his imaginary opponent. He had been shocked when the little brat had offered to trade food for fighting lessons, but had accepted the offer, knowing that having a reliable source of food was rare for most runaways in London.

"Alright, that's it for today. Lets spar, no weapons."

Nodding with determination, Harry threw his dagger to the side where it stuck into the plaster wall with a dull thud.

"Three, two..."

On two, the older boy was already moving, throwing a fist at Harry's solar plexus while simultaneously attempting a leg sweep. Neither attack made contact as Harry stepped out of the way, knocking the fist to the side with his elbow and pulling, making the other boy overbalance.

"Not bad," the boy admitted, stalking forwards with a predatory expression. "But not good enough."

Looking over Harry's shoulder, the other boy let out a soft gasp and began backing up with a frightened expression on his face. Unable to resist, Harry turned to see but realized his mistake too late as he landed face first on the gravel ground, with a foot planted in the small of his back and his arms pinned down.

Flipping Harry over, the boy firmly pressed his knee between Harry's legs, pinning him down in a painful position.

"Don't let yourself get distracted," the other boy reprimanded, "and always be aware of your surroundings. For example, you could have used the tin bucket there and checked the reflection rather than turning around. Get up and try again."

"Fuck." Wiping thin rivulets of blood off on his sleeve, Harry's eyes narrowed in anger. "That was a cheap shot."

The other boy scoffed. "This is a street fight, not a karate tournament."

Spinning on his heels, Harry feinted a punch, shifting his weight to the other foot and swinging into a roundhouse kick, grazing the gloating boy who had reacted too slowly. The other boy winced slightly but easily recovered, sending him an amused smirk. "Don't get too cocky, that was just a lucky shot".

The pair continued to trade blows, neither gaining an advantage as they were relatively evenly matched. Finally, the other boy barked out a command to stop. "You were good today, but you still need to work on your strength. See you tomorrow?"

"Sir, yes, sir," Harry replied flippantly, making the other boy snort and wave him off.

"I want more food next time," the boy yelled at his retreating back.

Checking to make sure he was not being watched, Harry apparated into the backyard of the Dursley home and entered with a loud cheerful cry of, "Hi everybody, I'm home!"

Petunia and Vernon Dudley immediately cowered, never mind the fact that he had yet to do anything to them no matter how much they deserved it. He just wanted to be left in peace - he had no intention of becoming a bully like them. But a little intimidation was always good for making sure he was left alone.

"What's for breakfast?" Harry bent over to inspect the dishes on the table and sniffed disdainfully, "Never mind, I'll make my own."

Vanishing the food on the plate with a wave of his hand, Harry waltzed into the kitchen with the empty dishes floating behind. The blatant use of magic drew pathetic whimpers from the Dursleys, but Harry wore a happy smile. Maybe it was the influence of his tutor, but he really enjoyed irritating people.

Firing up the stove, Harry hummed under his breath and began cooking. He actually enjoyed cooking, even if he resented being used like a slave. Cooking with magic was just a bonus, as he got to witness the Dursleys be conflicted between eating 'tainted' food or making food for themselves.

Flipping over the pancake, Harry reminisced on the various small pieces of revenge he had taken over the years, from slipping dead spiders into the food to spitting in the milk.

"Never should have taken in a no good freak like him..."

"...wasting our good money..."

"...trouble, that boy...always up to no good..."

" ... freakish ways just like his mother..."

Normally, Harry ignored their whispered conversations but this caught his attention and he voiced his thoughts aloud. "So my mother was also a wizard?"

A glass shattered as Petunia lost her grip, angrily slamming the hands on the table. "A witch. Of course she was. Perfect Lily with her magic, going to magic school with all her freakish friends..."

Her jealous rant rambled on, but Harry had stopped listening. There were other people with his abilities? There was a school? An entire world of magic hidden away? He had to know more.

"Tell me about the Wizarding World." Harry demanded, holding a small fireball in the palm of his hand.

Gulping nervously, Petunia began a stammered explanation while Vernon retreated, claiming that he needed to get to work.

"Wha..what do you want to know?"

"Everything."

* * *

**Gringrotts Bank, Diagon Alley:**

"This is all mine?" Harry asked in shock, staring at the piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins piled up in the vault.

Griphook bared his teeth in a vicious grin but answered in a bored tone, "Yes, this is your trust vault."

"Trust vault?" Harry asked, "Does that mean I have other vaults?"

"Yes," Griphook replied, "After Voldemort's defeat, many vaults were left to you by grateful witches and wizards in their wills. There is also a vault holding letters owled to you since that night, which have been redirected here."

Harry didn't like the idea of someone messing with his mail. "Redirected by who?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

Scowling fiercely, Harry muttered a few curses and felt his magic swell in anger. Griphook obviously felt it as well, because he hurried to reassure Harry. "While many of the letters are congratulatory and harmless, some contain spells that could seriously injure the recipient. I suspect the redirection was for your protection, than out of any real malice."

Seeing a logical reason behind it, Harry nodded reluctantly. "But what gives him the right to do that?"

"He is your magical guardian." Griphook simply stated. "While your muggle relatives are responsible for your life in the muggle world, your magical guardian takes care of your affairs in the magical world."

"Does he have access to my vault?" Harry asked sharply, his natural suspicion kicking into overdrive again.

"Yes, but he has not made any deposits or withdrawals."

Harry paused, considering the situation. "What about the other vaults left to me? Can he access those?"

"No," Griphook replied, "Those vaults are in your name, while this one was left to you and your magical guardian."

"Thanks," Harry answered, wandering to the back of the vault and eyeing the closed trunks speculatively. "In that case, I would like to open a new vault for myself and move all my assets at Gringotts Goblins Bank to that vault."

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Your will be done."

* * *

**Ollivander's Wand Shop, Diagon Alley:**

Harry glared when the wand maker reached out with his thin wrinkled finger as though to touch the lightning scar on his forehead. Ollivander stopped just millimeters away, startled by the intense green gaze.

"Which is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander asked, pulling out a tape measure which immediately floated into the air and began measuring him on its own.

"Both." Harry replied, flexing his fingers and allowing a trickle of magic to flow through both arms.

Mr. Ollivander peered at him curiously but didn't comment; instead, he took down a box from the shelf behind him and propped it open. "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible, just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and felt a repulsive feeling, dropping it instantly with a look of disgust. Mr. Ollivander slid another box onto the counter. "Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy."

Picking up the wand, Harry dropped it again and shook his head. Mr. Ollivander looked positively delighted as he retrieved yet another wand. "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy."

"No."

The pile of rejected wands grew larger and larger as Harry tried what seemed like every wand in the shop. Finally, Mr. Ollivander disappeared into the back room with a soft murmur of "I wonder…"

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple," Mr. Ollivander recited as he returned, holding a wooden box in his hands.

The moment Harry outstretched his arm, the wand soared into the air and flew into his hand, letting out a shower of bright sparks that swirled around the room.

"It is perfect!" Harry announced happily, feeling a surge ripple through his body, like the prickling of many needles on his skin.

"Curious, most curious." Ollivander mumbled under his breath, "How strange that you should get that wand, when its brother," Ollivander paused, "When its brother gave you that scar."

Hiding his discomfort at the topic, Harry shrugged, flippantly responding. "I have a cousin I'm not too proud of. I guess my wand and I have a lot in common."

Scrutinizing him with a piercing gaze, Ollivander solemnly whispered, "You are destined for great things, Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Ollivander, I don't believe in destiny."

* * *

**Hogwarts Express, Kings Cross Station:**

Harry sat in the otherwise empty compartment, his lithe form outlined against the morning sun. Drumming his fingers on the wooden table, he turned a page and began reading the chapter on basic magical theory.

He looked up as the glass compartment door rattled, sliding open to reveal a boy with dark brown hair and light blue eyes.

"Hi, um, have you seen a toad anywhere?"

Harry shook his head in response. "Have you tried summoning it?"

"I don't know how," the shy boy replied, nervously fidgeting in the doorway. "I asked some older students but they didn't want to help."

Shrugging, Harry drew his wand. "What does he look like, and what is his name?"

"Um...he's green-ish brown, about this size," he gestured with his hands, "and his name is Trevor."

Sending a burst of magic through his wand, Harry didn't bother to use a spell - instead, he just concentrated on bringing Trevor, the green and brown toad, to his side. It was a new technique that he had discovered, combining the flexibility of wandless magic and the amplifying power of wands.

An extremely unhappy toad flew through the open door, croaking in protest at the sudden change in location.

The boy hugged the toad close to his chest, gratefully mumbling his thanks. Harry waited for the other boy to leave the compartment before returning to his work, scribbling notes and ideas in the margins of his book.

A little while later, the compartment door slid open again.

"Anything off the trolley, dear?"

Getting to his feet, Harry immediately purchased an entire tray of chocolate frogs. While the feeling of having money was new to him, he was quickly getting used to it, learning to enjoy his life rather than simply getting by on the bare minimum.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The trolley cart lady stopped, turning to face him with a friendly smile on her face. "Yes?"

"Do you know how much longer it will be before we reach Hogwarts?" Harry asked, glancing at the short shadows cast by the afternoon sun.

"We will be there within the hour," the lady answered after checking her pocket watch, before moving down to the next compartment with a cry of, "Anything off the trolley? Only 1 knut a piece!"

Changing into his Hogwarts robes, Harry repacked his belongings with a broad sweep of his wand. In what seemed like no time at all, the train's whistle sounded and it slid to a stop.

A wave of magic rippled over Harry's skin as they passed the steel gates, and he finally felt at home.

* * *

**Entrance Hall, Hogwarts: **

Casually leaning against the stone wall of the entry chamber, Harry quietly observed the other first years with whom he would be spending the next seven years. Listening in on their conversations, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at how childish some of them were.

A freckled redhead was the worst, going on and on about how his brothers had told him they would have to wrestle a troll as part of the sorting ceremony. He didn't even realize that he was making himself look like an idiot, and even worse, some of the students were gullible enough to actually believe him.

Shouts of terror suddenly echoed through the antechamber and Harry instinctively assumed a defensive position, only relaxing when he realized it was just the school ghosts. The pearly-white, semi-transparent ghosts were arguing. Loudly.

A ghost wearing tights was the loudest of the bunch, and was gesturing dramatically with his head wobbling dangerously on his neck. "We've already given Peeves too many chances as it is. He gives all ghosts a bad name and he isn't even a ghost in the first place!"

"Forgive and forget, I say," a short monk shook his head, "Peeves has never hurt a student and his pranks are just harmless fun."

Seeming to not notice the students, the ghosts continued bickering as they floated across the room and through the opposite wall. It seemed to be a common debate among them, as most of the ghosts were simply nodding along with whoever was speaking.

Finally, Professor McGonagall stepped back into the room, looking quite stern as she announced in a clipped tone, "we are ready for you now", and leading them into the Great Hall.

The sight was simply breathtaking. Thousands of candles hovered in the air, casting light on four long tables below. Sparkling golden goblets and plates rested on the tables, and the chatter between the older students filled the hall.

Harry glanced upwards, admiring the velvety black ceiling dotted with silver stars. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a bushy haired girl lecturing the people around her in a condescending tone, something about bewitched ceilings and Hogwarts, A History.

Placing a tattered wizard hat on a three legged stool, Professor McGonagall stepped back and directed the first years into a line. A few moments of complete silence passed, before the hat twitched and burst into song.

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffis are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Everyone burst into applause when the hat finished, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in hand.

"Abbot, Hannah"

_"HUFFLEPUFF!"_

"Bones, Susan"

_"HUFFLEPUFF!"_

Loud clapping followed every sorting, until finally, Harry's turn arrived.

"Potter, Harry"

_"SLYTHERIN!"_

Absolute silence.

* * *

**Slytherin Common Room**

"My name is Severus Snape. I am your Head of House."

The hook-nosed professor had a way of keeping his audience silent simply by being present. His voice was silky smooth, and commanded attention.

"You have been sorted into Slytherin, the house of the cunning and ambitious. The other houses will consider you dark and dangerous, which is why Slytherin house always presents a united face outside of these walls."

Observing the other first year Slytherins, Harry noted that none of them looked surprised by his speech - it seemed they had been forewarned, probably by their parents.

"However, within these walls, you will learn how difficult the outside world can be. Do not come to me with petty complaints about your peers. You will resolve your own differences, and nothing that occurs will leave these walls."

Snape's dark eyes drifted to Harry, scrutinizing him with a disdainful gaze. "And now, our new celebrity...Harry Potter. I do hope you have no false ideas that your... title, will grant you any favors where I am concerned."

Snickering echoed around the dungeon walls, but Harry merely tilted his head in understanding. The message was clear. There would be no punishment for those who tried to attack the Potter heir.

"Dismissed. Class starts at 8:00 tomorrow."

Stalking out of the room, Snape's robes swirled menacingly behind him and the stone common room door slammed shut behind him with a loud crash. The male prefect led them to the first year dorm, where their trunks were already lying by the front door.

There were six beds in the room, for the six first year Slytherin boys- Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Bliase Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Harry Potter. Malfoy spoke up, pointing at the bed closest to the door. "Potter, why don't you take that bed?"

Both Nott and Zabini paused to see Harry's reaction, recognizing a power play in motion when they saw one. Would Harry accept Malfoy's authority?

Harry glanced around the room, noticing the subtle differences between the beds. Some had silk curtains while others were made of something akin to burlap fabric. The one Malfoy was pointing at was obviously the worst in the room.

There was a time when Harry would have backed down, feigning weakness to prevent conflict but he wasn't that boy anymore.

"No, its quite alright," Harry replied with mock concern in his voice. "Thank you for saving me a spot, but I think that bed would be much much more suitable for you."

Turning his back on Malfoy, a deliberate insult, Harry drew his wand and levitated his belongings to the most luxurious bed in the room.

"Good night Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle."


End file.
